Through the Eyes of Love (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Chapter 1

Cambridge

“Blast! This is the last thing I need at the moment!” Fitzwilliam Darcy threw the letter requesting his presence in London into the fire.

If his father wished to call him out of university with such urgency at the height of the Season, yet gave him no details, it must have to do with the vain, empty-headed earl’s daughter to whom his father had betrothed him when he was but fourteen.

Try as he might, he could not forget the overindulged child he had met for the first time three years prior.

Since that awful day, Darcy was well aware that he could never be happy with the spoilt, vacuous girl.

Could she possibly fall in love with someone else?

How overjoyed he would be to release her from their agreement.

He had been unable to attend her coming-out ball in February because of illness but now, he had no excuse.

When he arrived at his family’s London home, it had been many months since Darcy had last seen his father. He was shocked by the change in his appearance. “Father, have you lost weight? Are you well?”

“You are the one who has just recovered from pneumonia. I should be asking how you are.”

“The apothecary said I am well enough to travel, and I feel stronger every day. I have been working hard to make up for all the studies I missed. Again, I ask if you are well.”

“I am well, Fitzwilliam. My appetite has changed, but I have been told that often occurs as one ages.”

Darcy was not convinced he had been told the truth. “Are you certain?”

“Son, you fret too much.”

“In that case, is there a specific reason you asked me to come to town?” He held his breath, hoping his father’s request was not what he feared.

“Lord Markham is holding a ball later this week and asked that we attend.” Darcy could have run from the room. “As you know, Lady Beatrice recently made her debut and you must start being seen in society with her.”

He had no choice. “Yes, Father, as you wish.”

~~~

Darcy’s stomach was in knots as their carriage neared the party. Could the petulant child he met three years ago have matured enough to hold a tolerable conversation? In his opinion, fifteen was too young to be presented, but he was always at odds with what Lady Beatrice wanted.

He held his breath awaiting his father’s instructions. “Son, I expect you to treat Lady Beatrice with the respect she is due as the daughter of a nobleman and as your betrothed.”

“I understand, sir. I shall do my best.”

Once they entered the ballroom, the senior Mr. Darcy made his way towards the card room, but stopped to greet Lady Beatrice’s father, Lord Markham.

While the two chatted, paying no attention to the dance floor, Darcy’s affianced was laughing and inappropriately touching every man with whom she danced.

His dearest wish was that one of those gentlemen would like to marry her and her considerable dowry!

Of course, he was full young when the contract had been signed—now he was trapped and could not get out of this marriage arrangement.

In the midst of feeling sorry for himself, the first few sets were over and the time had come for him to dance with the woman he was destined to marry.

How could he forget such a momentous occasion?

His father and Lord Markham stood together in anticipation of their children’s first dance, yet Lady Beatrice was nowhere to be found.

Could she have walked out on the terrace for fresh air?

He had barely taken a step over the threshold when his eyes were assaulted by the vision of his future wife in the arms of a man who was passionately kissing every part of her exposed upper body.

Darcy loudly cleared his throat, and the two lovers turned to glare at him. “Madam, I believe this is our dance.”

“So it is, Mr. Darcy.” As she pulled the front of her gown up to a more suitable level, she calmly added, “I am sure you know Lord Bertram.”

Ignoring the needless introduction, Darcy offered her his arm.

She scowled and barely put any pressure on his forearm as she placed her hand on it.

“I would have left you alone with your friend, but our fathers are expecting us to dance this evening. Your behaviour tonight will not be tolerated after our engagement is publicly announced.”

“I hope you will know how to please me after we are married.” He was shocked by the boldness of her words. She tilted her head and scowled at him with contempt. “I do not wish to wait long to wed.”

“You are not yet sixteen, and I am still at Cambridge; thus, I do not foresee our marriage taking place any time soon.”

“Shall we join the set?” Her tone was cold. The two most disappointed people in the ballroom moved past their fathers, who applauded their dance together with satisfied grins.

Later in their carriage, Darcy told his father what he witnessed on the balcony.

“Son, people in our sphere marry for wealth, power, and connections. Was Beatrice kissing someone inappropriate?” Darcy’s jaw dropped.

Why was his father not disturbed by what he told him?

None of it was appropriate! “I understand your shock, but you must remember, she has not had the benefit of a mother’s guidance. She is too influenced by her friends.”

“How can I ever approve of her behaviour? Marry, beget an heir, and then live apart. I am condemning myself to living a lonely life while she. . . Father, there must be a way to put an end to this farce.” He did not wish to think of the miserable future which awaited him.

“Have you forgotten I signed a legally binding document? You must marry Lady Beatrice before you are eight and twenty. If you do not, her father can sue us for breach of promise. Lord Markham would demand a judge settle a fortune on his daughter and it might cost us Pemberley. Consider how such a scandal would affect Georgiana’s chances of making a good match.

” Darcy could only shake his head in frustration.

His father added, “Keep her with child at Pemberley, and she will soon forget all those ideas.”

~~~

1806

Cambridge

With his university studies completed, Darcy was preparing to leave for home.

While he sorted through his books to decide which ones to keep with him in the carriage and which to pack, his valet entered the room; however, Darcy did not look up from his task.

“Kenton, the rain has not stopped for days. Perhaps we should wait another day or two for the roads to dry.”

“Yes sir. Shall I make arrangements for two days hence?”

“That would be best.”

“This express was just delivered.”

The handwriting was familiar to Darcy and he quickly tore open the letter.

My son,

It is urgent you come home immediately.

Father

“I must get home as soon as possible. Never mind the muddy roads, we must make haste!”

He was on his way within hours.

~~~

After three long, rainy days on the road, his carriage drove up the lane to Pemberley, only to find a black wreath on the front door. Tears filled his eyes. He was too late; his father was dead.

When he entered the house, his young sister ran to him and threw herself into his arms. “I am so grateful you are home, brother.” Georgiana clung to him and wept.

“So am I, poppet.” His darling sister had suffered the loss of both their parents at such a young age.

First, the wonderful mother his sister never knew, and now the man who had doted on her these past ten years was gone.

Darcy was determined to do everything he could to see Georgiana was cared for to the best of his ability.

He excused himself and went to the study to sort out his thoughts and get a sense of Pemberley’s affairs.

His father must have been ill when he saw him before the Markhams’ ball.

Why had he believed Father when he had said he was well in the following months?

The older man must have known he did not have long to live.

Darcy now understood why his mentor was so determined to teach him as much as he could about managing Pemberley.

They often talked about the running of the estate and visited the tenant farms together.

Darcy attended many meetings with their steward but never suspected that Father was so ill.

Oh, that he had paid better attention! How could he have known that it would not be many years before he would become master?

He was lost in thought when the knock came on the study door.

“Enter!” He forgot his manners and shouted.

Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, stepped into the room. “May I get you anything, master Fitzwilliam? Oh, I apologise, Mr. Darcy. Your father’s death has been difficult for all of us.”

“You have known me since I was a young boy, and I confess I am overwhelmed by all these letters and invoices.” He held up the pile of correspondence in his hands. “My father taught me so much yet I have no idea where to begin.”

“Attempt one task at a time and do not hesitate to ask for help. Sir, in the following weeks, you will learn how to deal with both your loss and your new responsibilities. Your father instilled in you a love of Pemberley and its people, and I am confident you will not disappoint them.”

“You are correct, as usual. Thank you for listening and for your understanding.”

“I am confident the estate is in good hands. Now, may I bring you some tea and your favourite biscuits?”

“Thank you, that is just what I need.”

One of the letters on his desk stood out, and he tore it open.

Sir,

Pray accept my sincere condolences. George Darcy was not only my patient but a dear friend since our days together at Cambridge. I deeply regret I was not able to do more for him after I discovered the tumour in his abdomen.

He was a very fine man who was very proud of you and confident the future of Pemberley was safe in your hands.

Sincerely,

M. Pauling